


Define Us

by Vintage (KyberHearts)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Morning Cuddles, Other, and uncertain reader inserts, gender neutral reader, something about me and morning cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 14:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12866691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyberHearts/pseuds/Vintage
Summary: You exchange some truths between yourself and Kenway





	Define Us

He’s far from handsome.

And both of you know it.

It was a jab at the older captain; it was meant to be a barb or a conversation starter between two characters who didn’t know how to interact with each other yet.

Yes, still unsure, even as you lounged in the Jackdaw cabin and he on your cotton white sheets, as you strayed to each other’s arms.

The comment slips from your lips. It’s not a foreign thought. You readily think the infamous Edward lacks handsome qualities of other mariners who return from high seas. What skin on his face that escapes scars and stubble looks and feels like worn leather, or perhaps patchily tanned and scorched under the sun.

His eyes are sparks of sky blue, in your opinion, though Edward claims they’re the color of oceans. Nonetheless, the eyes offer respite from the flattened, crooked nose, the chapped and faded lips, and sparse facial hair that barely boasts volume.

And Christ, the beard is like a multitude of spines, and so very different than his soft, straw-colored hair. The first time you’d ask him to consider shaving or at least growing a proper beard like Teach’s, Kenway retaliated with scraping the sensation against your skin again and again until you threatened to torch his cabin.

_ Well,  _ you murmured to Edward,  _ I don’t think you’re handsome at all. _

His callused fingers trailed along your bare shoulder and collarbones, and he seemed lost in thought. Was it possible that you had injured his ego? The idea was somewhat laughable. Before you could retract the opinion, he’d smiled all of the sudden. A lopsided grin, filled with resignation and amusement. Maybe, glad that you weren't afraid to tell him.

_ Yeah, _ he snickered.  _ And so what? _

You shrugged.  _ And so nothing. _

If the sunset happened to catch his figure in a pleasing light, then you could admit some attraction to the rugged features. But in the end, it wasn’t Kenway’s looks that drew you time and time again to the  _ Jackdaw _ , or to his awkward embraces (only due to his habit of wearing bulky armor, weapons strapped to his chest and hips, and too many belts for one man or pirate). 

You’re not really sure what attracts you; it’s just how a compass manages to always point north.

The apartment is quiet and interrupted only by the occasional dock worker’s shouting in early mornings. One morning, not too long from the terse conversation, you wake and glance over at Edward’s sleeping figure.There’s a feeling of warmth and safety, but also some feral instinct to bolt from the apartment, your home. It’s all so disconcerting. You slowly sit up, hoping not to disturb him.

But Edward stirs anyways; his broad shoulders cease the slow rhythm of his breathing, and he lazily rolls over to see you sitting at the edge of the bed. Unlike you, he’d forsaken a shirt and slept in his trousers. The tattoos on his chest and arms are stark against his pale skin as he reaches for you. “Come back,” Edward murmurs hazily. “‘s cold.”

Most of the blankets had been unceremoniously shoved to the floor. You pick up the sheets and start to tuck him in like a child. Then Edward grabs your wrists, too swift and startling for a man who’d just woke up, and the pirate bundles you in his arms, effectively trapping your limbs and he attacks your jaw and neck with his prickling kisses.

“Mmm. Where do you think you’re going so early in the morning?” he demands.

“Edward,” you gasp, eyes and heart fluttering, “let go of me.”

It takes a moment for the request to sink in, but he eventually relaxes his grip. You sit up, but you don’t move away from him. A hand traces the exposed skin above your hips; a fond gesture, nothing more if you didn’t wish it. Kenway might be a thief and a gentleman, and everything in between, but he knew that you trusted him intimately. That also meant recognizing and understanding the trace of uncertainty in your voice.

“I like the way you look in the morning,” Kenway says, drawing attention away from whatever might be conflicting you.

It doesn’t work, and you avoid his focused gaze and heavy-lidded eyes. “Do you want tea?”

His lips press together. “Wanna tell me what’s bothering you?” he asks instead.

“You get three guesses.”

“Nightmare.”

You shake your head.

“Out of coffee beans. But you know, I can always pick them up on the way to Havana.”

A brief smile flits across your face. “Well, now that you mention it, I am running low.”

When you finally meet Edward’s gaze, it’s serious and certain as he guesses, or recalls from the past: “You’re still bothered by whatever we are.”

You don’t fight the accusation. The urge to take flight simmers to confusion. “I just… I just don’t get it. What are we?”

Edward shrugs, and resumes his rough caress. “According to Vane,” he says lightly, “who for all intents and purposes, might sink  _ Ranger _ before settling down and bedding anyone, we might call ourselves lovers. I haven’t been with anyone besides you for the last few months and I’ve not been tempted.”

“Me neither, but I don’t want to be--”

And you stop, and rest your head in your hands. Whereas you’d easily teased Edward about his looks, you can’t bring yourself to speak. At least, not until the blonde man slowly sits up and wraps his warm arms around your shivering frame. His breath ghosts along your open shirt. It’s a completely different sensation than before, or all previous times when he’d so desperately sought a kiss and a taste from you.

Edward claims ocean salt has permanently stained his hands and lips, and he’d insisted on a brash kiss,  _ your first kiss _ , to prove his point. He hadn’t been exactly wrong, though the ocean was almost masked by the disagreement of alcohol, never your favorite drink. But it’s the compass pointing north. No matter how you turn, you still find yourself looking for his mouth, which only made your feelings for Kenway all the more bewildering.

You shut your eyes.

“I don’t want to be your lover, Edward,” you tell him quietly. “I feel like I’m more than that. I’ve worked with you. I trust you as a friend, and more.”

Kenway nestles his chin against your shoulder. You unconsciously lean into his touch, and you hear a quiet, satisfied groan from Edward. “Well, good,” he replies. “Because I feel the same way. But does it matter so much, that you have to define what we are? Can’t I just be here with you?”

He sounds honest. Sincere. He always does, when he’s with you, but you’ve also seen the Captain Kenway roar at the top of his lungs without a single break in the voice. Sometimes the rowdiness spills into your late-night, early-morning touches. But there’s a gentle side of him that he entrusts to you and few others.

“Y/N,” Edward asks, “Can’t I be yours?”

Your eyes flick open.

Like the barb, the reply leaps from your mouth before you can retract such.

“For now,” you tell him. It could be true and it could be false. Even if he tried to extract the truth from your lips, under threat of pain or pleasure, that’s all you would ever offer. You refuse to look at him.

Then he lets out a long breath, perhaps disappointed. “I’ll get you your Havana coffee,” Edward says to you, with his usual brisk tone, and presses a lingering, tender kiss to your hair. “Just remind me before the  _ Jackdaw _ takes off next week.”

“All right.”

Edward starts to shuck off the blankets and slides past you to the edge of the bed. You catch him with a shaking hand, and draw him in for a unsure, uncertain kiss. Seeking an answer with his touch, like the way he finds comfort in your bed. He kisses you softly, his lips rough and gentle like his personality, and his worn hands cradle you.

He’s the first to break away.

“I’m yours,” Kenway says, “for as long as you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: hey, so, ive not touched a single bit of ac4 content. kudos if you spot a line from a song on my playlist


End file.
